


World Stop

by aura218



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aura218/pseuds/aura218
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft said, "And if I  told you Sherlock was alive and well, and standing behind you?" "I'd punch him, that's what."</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Stop

**Author's Note:**

> Fic response to this lovely kissy fanart by [marielikestodraw](http://marielikestodraw.tumblr.com/post/10462561769/and-the-world-stop-turning-no-comment)

Mycroft said, "My I ask what you'd do if I told you Sherlock was alive and well?"

"He — he what?" John said. "After three bloody — he's alive? And been where?"

Mycroft looked bored. "Where hasn't he been?"

John rocked on his heels. "That's great. Bloody great. All over the world? I'm sure — having luvely adventures while we all sit here worrying! Whot would I — I'd hit him, that's what I'd goddamn do."

Sherlock's gravelly voice behind him: "Oh, dear, all that emotion over me?"

John turned slowly. Chills tickled his sweaty spine at this voice from the past, a voice he only heard in his dreams. Sherlock stood impassive as ever on the pavement in his stupid bloody coat, with his blue chip eyes, looking wan yet whole. John felt his breath go out.

"You sodding utter —"

"I'm sorry, John."

Mycroft glanced at the surrounding traffic in Union Square nervously, all the tourists and at least six ranked officials. The two men took two long strides toward each other.

"I hate you," John said.

Somehow their hands caught up and John was holding Sherlock about the neck and Sherlock was pulling him close by his jaw and then. Kiss. It felt just the same as the first. The same breathy fury, the same pounding fear in John's chest. So much time, and Sherlock could still utterly confuse him.

A red double-decker bus trumbled by. Mycroft winced as a pack of hooting Americans took pictures.

"All right, that's quite enough of that," Mycroft said. The black-suited men with the coils of wire coming out their ears were exchanging amused expressions and  _it didn't do_  to get too personal with the help. But as usual, Sherlock was utterly beyond propriety.

He wrapped his arms around John Watson, and John held him back, and they kissed.


End file.
